5 Times
by Lydia Belle
Summary: 5 Times Merlin sees Morgana dance [Glimpse of Arthur/Morgana if you squint]
1. Chapter 1

_So yeah, it's been a while. Understatement. No excuses, but my charging port for my laptop did break so things have been a tad difficult. I'm using my parent's computer now though so it shouldn't be too much longer. Promise. Anyway, I was watching _The Tudors _on youtube and a "suggestion" popped up, a dancing montage, like all the dancing scenes from the show mashed together and it got me thinking about how no one really danced on _Merlin. _Too busy fighting evil I guess... So! I got to thinking, then writing, so since I'm kind of blocked on _No Light _right now I'm putting this up. Simple 5-shot that'll be done really soon. I'll get back to _The Lost One _and _No Light _as soon as possible. Promise! In the meantime, enjoy. And check out my Tumblr, link is on my page. _

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**1. **

The first time Merlin sees Morgana dance, it's with the prince.

He's at a feast being held in honor of the Great Purge, a thought that makes him sick.

Arthur, the royal prat, has asked his father's ward to join him in a dance.

In her rather daring red gown, her obsidian hair elegantly pinned up, she takes his breath away.

He's not sure he's ever seen someone look quite so beautiful.

She twirls in tandem with the other dancers, her long fingers entwined with the princes.

Apart of him feels sick to see her dancing with him, but at the same time they look... wonderful together.

His shining golden circlet with the red cape of the Pendragon's makes him look even more a prince than he already does, a worthy partner for the Lady Morgana.

She's smiling at him, tendrils of her hair stuck to her flushed cheeks.

He doesn't know what dance this is, something upbeat with plenty of woodwinds, cheery.

The women and men seperate and stand in lines opposite each other, then approach, hands clasped in the air above their heads.

Arthur and Morgana circle one another as do the others, though the way they dance seems more predatory the way they go about it.

Smirking at one another, eyes lowered to lips, the very defintion of sensual.

He watches from the sidelines beside Guinevere, and he shoots a quick glance to see her grinning proudly in their direction.

He remembers her saying something earlier in the evening about Morgana one day being the Queen to Arthur's King, and initially he'd balked.

But now, seeing the way they gaze at one another, he can believe it.

She dips her head and spins away, doing a few steps on her own, the skirts of her gown fanning out around her ankles.

A breathy laugh escapes her and her right hand reaches to the side, sweeping low towards her knee as Arthur reclaims the left.

They do a jig that winds them in with the other dancers, toes pointed, feet moving in perfect rythm to the bursting song.

Guinevere has begun clapping in tandem with the other guests, laughing politely behind her hand when one of the younger girls nearly trips over Morgana's skirts.

He finds himself laughing too.

There were never any festivities of this sort in Ealdor, the village he'd been born to was too poor to afford such luxurious activities.

Morgana's skirts are fisted to her calves as she spins by him again, and he can't help but wonder how she manages to dance so gracefully in such high shoes.

She and Arthur stand across from one another as the song changes, slows, and they each hold up a flat palm.

They bring them close, yet never touch, and begin walking slowly around one another.

The dancers do the same, and all together, moving in the same way, it creates a surprisingly beautiful effect.

The slowness of the walk doesn't last though, and suddenly the men and women have seperated.

The prince and the other male dancers stand at a distance as the women grab elbows and twirl from one partner to another, soft skin and hair of all shades blurring together.

He finds himself growing dizzy, watching their long skirts and slender limbs as they glide and turn and spin and spin and spin.

As the music reaches its peak the men rejoin, sweeping their partners into their arms.

Each one a prince, rescuing their princess.

He cannot help but watch Morgana, her cheeks flushed as she smiles widely at Arthur.

How he wishes it was he she smiled at.

They're pressed close to one another as the song ends, and she curtseys low as he bows, smirking devilishly as they return to their seats beside the King.

His jealous thoughts vanish though, as the night turns to sudden hell.


	2. Chapter 2

_Second part, please review. I'm curious as to what people think of this. I know it's rushed but hey, any attention is good attention, right? ... [Check out my tumblr page, link is on my profile]_

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**2.**

The second time Merlin sees Morgana dance, it's past midnight.

It has been a few months since his initial arrival into Camelot, and subsequent rescue of the prince from Mary Collins's revenge.

His reward for said heroic acts, becoming manservant to the royal prat.

At first he'd looked at this new happening as a curse, but since then many things have changed.

Guinevere and the Lady Morgana are his friends, as is a reluctant Arthur though he'd never outrightly admit it.

On this night Arthur has asked - demanded really - that he fetch some chicken from supper earlier, as he's suddenly _famished._

He's passing by the empty throne room when he notices one of the massive double doors is ajar.

With a glance in either direction he pokes his head around the corner.

His eyes widen at the sight of Morgana within, her eyes closed as she moves.

The first thing he notices are her clothes.

He's not quite sure what it is she's wearing, it isn't one of her typical gowns nor a nightdress.

The bodice is tight with thin straps and the skirt is a single layer of thin gozameer fabric, twirling around her bare feet.

The second thing he notices is the way she's dancing.

Her movements are graceful as usual but seem almost, solemn.

There is no music, and a single candle flickers from the seat of Uther's throne.

Her hair is out in long waves to the small of her back, and they tickle her jaw as she spins in graceful arcs around the throne room.

He can't force himself to give her any privacy, to look away.

It's almost as if he's under some sort of trance, following every toe point and leap and bound.

She's dancing as if it's what she was born to do, as if it's all that matters in the world.

And the very sight of her has him under a spell.

Her hands cup at her face and she stretches them away, opening her empty palms, releasing a bird only she can see.

She sweeps into a low curtsy as if greeting a partner, stepping in wide circles, then spreads her arms and spins endlessly.

He wonders how it is that she doesn't grow hopelessly dizzy.

Morgana's head tips back and she slows, reaching above her, stretching to reach the cieling.

He thinks that if she tried hard enough, she could probably grasp the stars.

She brings her hands to her face, skimming her cheeks, then her lips, then stretches her hands out in front.

She stands on the point of her toes then twirls back to the middle of the room.

"Merlin." a hand lands on his shoulder and he jumps away, his back to the door.

Arthur smirks at him, arms crossed over his chest.

"Arthur." he stutters.

The prince rolls his eyes and peers around him, into the throne room.

Morgana has the skirt held just above her ankle with one hand, raised up on the tips of her toes as she raises one leg out then tucks it behind her, almost kneeling.

Her toes drag against the floor as she comes to a stand, releasing her skirt.

Her arms come out to her sides, wrists rolling, fingers outstretched as she pushes and pulls like the waves of the ocean.

All the while she picks up the pace, moving faster and faster.

Her hair whips her skin, and even in the dim lighting he can tell her cheeks are flushed.

A small smile graces her face and he fights hard to hold in his own.

Arthur clears his throat quietly and pushes him aside, shutting the door without a sound.

He turns to Merlin, his expression is hard, and the hand on his shoulder grips him sternly.

"I thought I asked you to bring me something?"


	3. Chapter 3

_short. sorry. update soon on no light, working on it. kisses _

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3.

The third time Merlin sees Morgana dance, she is no longer the Morgana he knew.

He has no one to blame but himself.

He poisoned her, like a coward, and the guilt eats at him day and night.

She no longer smiles and dances through corridors, she smirks and slinks down the halls like a snake.

Her sister Morgause is the only person she trusts now, and it hurts him to think it's his own fault.

He watches as her birthday feast comences, and she recieves jewels from Uther and dresses upon dresses from visiting nobility.

She smiles and grins and it's all very believable, except for the hardness he sees in her eyes.

When Arthur gifts her a bejewled dagger he sees genuine excitement and happiness and for a moment it's as if he's seeing the girl he killed once more, and it sends a pang through his heart.

Cheerful music comprised of flutes and woodwinds begins and she smiles cheerfully, clapping along as her guests begin to dance.

More than one man asks for her hand and she politely declines, until Sir Leon comes to her.

She smiles playfully up at the knight with the head of curls, his beard freshly shorn as he stands in his cloak, red as new blood.

She stands, her slender ringed fingers swallowed up by his wide palm.

He leads her around the feasting table to the floor where they stand across from one another, and bow in tandem.

They hold their hands between them, spinning in close circles.

She releases him and as he stands, still as a pillar, she twirls around him, the skirts of her pearlescent gown in hand.

Her hair, peppered with crystals and gathered to one side, flutters around her chin.

The red curve of her lips is pronounced against her fair skin as she stops beside him, taking his hand in hers once again.

They do a few steps before weaving between the other couples, gaining new partners every few steps before meeting again.

He is transfixed by this new dance, one of passion and lust, one he never thought to be acceptable in Uther's court.

Though when he glances up at the King he seems to be overjoyed, clapping and laughing, pointing at the dancing couples with his son.

Morgana suddenly branches off on her own, and the whole court stops to watch.

Her eyes are nearly closed as she spins, arms out at her sides.

She tips her head back and slows, facing the table, stepping forward delicately, up on her toes.

Smiling brightly, her skirts held up to her ankles, she dances a few steps in quick succession before spinning once more and sinking into a low curtsy, peering up at the king from beneath her lashes.

The crowd claps as Sir Leon returns to her side, kissing her hand and helping her back to her seat.

Uther leans over and touches her cheek with the back of his finger, undoubtedly whispering how wonderfully she danced.

He can't help but wonder if the ruddy tint to her cheeks is due to the flush she gained from dancing or the anger at being in such close proximity to the man she so desperately wants dead.

As she smiles and bashfully waves her hand, gesturing for him to watch the other dancers, he can't honestly know if it's all an act.

He swears that sometimes he sees brief flashes of the girl he had befriended, the girl he caught dancing so beautifully in the empty throne room.

But he recognizes that that is all they are, flashes, of a girl who no longer exsists.

And as the king's gaze shifts to his guests and she stares coldly into the crowd he wonders if it could have been different.


End file.
